


Lightning Always Strikes Twice

by Scarlet_Gryphon



Series: The Adventures of Tesla and Sourwolf [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, pre-slash until the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Gryphon/pseuds/Scarlet_Gryphon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be wary of the Mage who allies themselves with a Pack, and never do them harm. To do otherwise will lead to your untimely death and destruction of all that you've worked for.</p>
<p>(Part 4 in my Paranormal Crimes Unit AU, as requested. Enjoy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Spell of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> For all of those who wanted a longer 'fic in the Tesla and Sourwolf 'verse, here you go. Yes, this _will_ end up Sterek, but only at the end, and even then only just starting out. Sorry, loves, but I like to build relationships up before the fun times can be had. Most of the time, anyways. Hope you enjoy!

Stiles woke slowly, his head pounding and his mouth feeling drier than the Sahara. The last thing he remembered was leaving the buffet restaurant where he and the Pack had been eating. He'd gotten to his car and was in the middle of unlocking it when he'd felt a wave of exhaustion suddenly drop down on him like a sledgehammer. He dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the ground. Everything was a blank after that, leaving a dark swathe in his memories. He was laying in a dark cell, a heavy weight around his neck. Stiles lifted a shaky hand to investigate, and made a weak noise of surprise when he found what felt like a leather collar locked around his neck, the sharp outlines of runes etched into its surface.

“Wha--?” Stiles struggled into a sitting position, his head swimming from the sleep spell. He hated sleep spells; they always messed him up horribly. “A collar? You've _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Sorry,” said a woman's voice from the darkness nearby, “but unfortunately, it's real. I've got one too, if that makes you feel any better.”

Stiles turned his head sharply towards the source of the voice, biting back a groan at the wave of nausea that resulted from his action. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“My name's Cora. That's all I really know. Sorry.”

Stiles waved an idle hand. “Don't worry. My names is Stiles. I'm an FBI agent, but more importantly, a mage.”

“That doesn't matter,” Cora said heavily. “The collar stops you from using any magic. Trust me, I would know. I'm a mage as well. There's no use in trying; you'll get a nasty shock from the collar.”

“Awesome.” Stiles' tone was desert dry. “Anything helpful?”

“Food comes in twice a day. They occasionally take me out and do tests. They like to drain my magic almost entirely before throwing me back in here,” Cora told him. “I bet they'll do the same for you.”

Stiles groaned. “That sounds like so much fun. How long have I been here?”

“A while. At least half a day,” Cora replied. “They've served dinner already.”

Stiles hummed, falling into thought. He didn't get much time to think, though; not ten minutes later the door opened, throwing light into the room and revealing two large men dressed in dark clothes. Stiles immediately looked over to see what Cora looked like. She was painfully thin and pale, dressed in plain blue scrubs and nothing else save for the worn collar around her neck. She had a thin blanket wrapped around her body in an attempt to keep warm, though Stiles noticed she still shivered occasionally. 

Cora gave him a wan smile, her dark eyes weary. Stiles returned it, but his attention soon returned to the two men, who had come into the room and crossed over to where he was sitting. “Up,” the taller of the two commanded. “Now.”

Stiles slowly got to his feet, not wanting to give the men any reason to harm him. He mentally labeled the taller one 'Goon One' and his near-twin 'Goon Two', highly doubting he'd be learning their actual names any time soon. They didn't look the sort to share that kind of information freely. Once Stiles was fully upright, Goon Two took hold of Stiles in a rough grip, wrenching his arms behind his back before securing them with handcuffs.

“Hey, watch it!” Stiles exclaimed as Goon Two bundled him out of the room, leaving Goon One to close the door of the cell Stiles and Cora were being kept in. Goon Two cuffed him around the head, making Stiles yelp sharply. He was taken to a room that reminded him of a dental office, though no dentist Stiles had ever been to had had such an arrangement of magical and mundane paraphernalia in their examination room. A chair was in the center of a magical circle; adjustable straps on the arms and legs gave Stiles pause when he saw them. 

Goon Two forced him into the chair, Goon One securing Stiles' wrists and ankles in the straps with practiced efficiency. Stiles struggled, naturally, but it didn't do him much good. All too soon he was strapped down and unable to move. “What the hell are you going to do?” Stiles snapped, not liking the way the two Goons were methodically turning on machinery and activating various magical artifacts. 

“Shut up and you'll see,” Goon One said. “A mage like yourself should be able to recognize a draining unit when you see one. It's why you're here, after all.”

Stiles growled at that, his struggles intensifying as Goon Two attached metal clips to various points around his collar. Goon One began chanting, making the markings on several of the rune stones and the magical circle surrounding the chair glow a sickly jade green that steadied and intensified over time. As the stones began to glow, Stiles could feel his strength starting to drain quickly. Goon One nodded in satisfaction at the readings he was getting on the instruments before gesturing to his companion.

“Everything looks good. Come on; let's go tell the boss.”

Goon Two attached one last clip and then stepped back, dusting off his hands. “Alright.” He led the way out, Goon One turning off the lights and plunging the room into darkness just before he closed the door, leaving only the glow of the rune stones and the magical circle to illuminate everything. Stiles tried escaping one last time, but his bindings held fast. He slumped in the chair, his strength and his magic being sapped away with every breath he took.


	2. The Search Begins

Derek came into the office on Monday, putting his jacket in his office and then going to greet the members of his team, starting with Scott and then visiting the others. He knocked on the door of Stiles' office, frowning when he didn't see the light coming from under Stiles' door. Usually, Stiles was the first of the team to get in; he liked to come in early and get his computers warmed up for the day. 

“Stiles?” Derek pushed the door open, his frown deepening when he didn't see Stiles. The computers were dark, their towers quiescent as well. Stiles' scent faintly permeated the office, giving Derek a sense of peace and calmness. Not that he would tell Stiles _that_. Dealing with inter-pack relationships was iffy at best; doing so while on the same team would be a logistical nightmare, though technically it would be possible. 

Werewolves tended to be given a little more leeway with inter-office romances because of their more animalistic sides. Their inner Wolves tended to mark people as Mates almost unconsciously, and as such, it was hard to keep their professional and personal lives separate like normal humans could. Derek's Wolf had marked Stiles as their Mate a few months after they'd met, and as such, Derek hadn't really been interested in attempting to date anyone since then, barely responding to the various flirtations that had come his way.

Derek did a quick check of the room, making sure there weren't any notes laying around before he headed back out, closing the door behind him. He went back towards the bullpen, unable to keep a worried expression off his face. Isaac was the one who noticed him first, the younger 'wolf meeting up with him as he came out of the break room with a fresh mug of coffee.

“Everything okay?” Issac asked, giving Derek a concerned look. Derek shook his head.

“No. I can't find Stiles anywhere. He's not in his office, and none of his computers are turned on. He was supposed be back on duty today, right?” he replied. Issac's concern morphed into startled surprise.

“Yeah, he should be. That's weird. You know, I had to start the coffee this morning. Stiles usually does that when he gets in,” Isaac mused. “Maybe one of the others know where he is.”

“Maybe.”

They made their way to the bullpen, stopping at Scott's desk first. “Hey, have you seen Stiles?” Derek asked, not bothering to waste any time with pleasantries. 

Scott shook his head. “Not since the buffet,” he admitted. “Allison and I were busy with wedding stuff all weekend.”

“That was Thursday. Not even a call or a text?”

Scott shrugged. “Nope. I just thought he wanted some time to himself. He's usually like that after visits home. He's usually not late to work, though.”

Derek nodded. “Call him. See what's going on and ask why he's not here yet.”

Scott dug his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for Stiles' phone. It rang through until the voice-mail activated, Stiles' prerecorded message sounding in his ear. Scott tried twice more before looking up and shaking his head.

“No answer on any of them,” he reported. Derek's expression tightened. 

“Damn,” he muttered, drawing a hand over his face. Isaac returned from asking the others if they'd seen or heard from Stiles at all since the buffet restaurant, shoulders slumped slightly.

“Nothing,” he said. “No one's seen or heard from him since. Maybe he's sick or hung over?”

“I can go check,” Scott offered, grabbing his jacket and his keys as he got to his feet. “He might've put his phone on vibrate or silent, though he usually calls in sick if he needs to.”

“Go check on him,” Derek said with a terse nod. “Call when you get to his apartment.”

Scott returned Derek's nod with one of his own, pulling on his jacket before making his way out of the bullpen and over to the elevator. Derek turned his attention to Isaac. “Get the others and meet me in my office,” he said. “Stiles is part of the Pack, 'wolf or not.”

“You want to see if we can find him with the Pack bond?” Isaac guessed.

“Yes. He's our Mage and our friend. He should be here if he can, and we need to take care of him if he can't,” Derek said. 

“Agreed. We'll meet you there.” Isaac went to gather the others while Derek went into his office, shoving the chairs to the side and making enough space for all of them to sit on the floor. The rest of the team joined him soon after, crowding into the office and sitting on the floor. Isaac, who was the last one to come in, closed and locked the door behind him before taking his place in the circle that the others had formed.

They joined hands, focusing on the Pack bond. As they did so, the 'wolves eyes changed colors right before they closed them: the betas' to a vibrant gold and Derek's to a deep crimson. The Pack bond shimmered into being behind their closed eyelids, forming a spiderweb-like construct in their minds. The central hub was a deep forest green and focused on Derek while the others were connected to it by different colored lines of varying strength and thicknesses depending on their place in the Pack and their physical proximity to Derek.

Scott's bond-line was a rich earthy brown, strong and moderately stretched out, while Stiles' bond-line was a faint honey gold, stretched thin and far away. Derek frowned, not liking what he saw. He gently plucked the bond, his mental touch soft and sure. The bond responded sluggishly, returning a sense of great fatigue and a moderate amount of pain. Derek growled softly at that, the sound faintly echoed by the others, 'wolf and human alike. The sudden ringing of Derek's cell phone broke the Pack's concentration. Derek opened his eyes, the irises still a dark red, and answered his phone briskly, the faint after-images of the Pack bond lingering in his sight. He hadn't realized they'd been meditating long enough for Scott to reach Stiles' apartment, but the stiffness in his legs and back spoke otherwise.

“Hale.”

“Derek, it's Scott. Stiles' car isn't here, and neither is he. I used the key he gave me to get into his apartment, but nothing's been touched. His suitcase isn't even here. It must still be in his trunk; he was talking about doing laundry when he got home after the buffet. I don't know if he ever made it home.”

“Go to the buffet. See if his car is still there,” Derek told him. “If it's not, see if you can find one of the staff who may remember seeing it there. We've checked over the Pack bond, but so far, nothing except that he's far away and not doing well.”

Scott let out a huff of anger. “We'll find him,” he said.

“Damn right we will,” Derek replied as the others got to their feet. “We'll work what angles we can from here. I need to talk with Deaton about this.”

“Got it. I'll call you when I'm on my way back,” Scott told him. “See you then.”

With that, he hung up, leaving Derek to close his phone. He shoved it back into his pocket, rising to his full height as he did so. Deaton was the unit chief for the PCU, and usually handled the administrative side of everything, preferring to take an advisory role rather than a heavy handed one. He'd been the one to suggest Derek for the role of supervisory special agent, and while Derek had been hesitant about it at first, everything had turned out alright for the most part.

The others dispersed to their desks, taking the initiative and beginning to make calls to various people, including the LAPD, to get a BOLO out on Stiles and his car. Derek made his way to Deaton's office, doing his best to get himself under control before he knocked on Deaton's door.

“Come in,” Deaton called out in response. Derek took a deep breath before going inside. Deaton looked up from his computer, eyebrows rising when he saw the state Derek was in.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, noting Derek's eyes and his general tense mood. Derek closed the door behind him, taking a seat in the chair in front of Deaton's desk.

“Stiles is missing. He hasn't been seen since Thursday,” Derek said, getting directly to the point. “The last time anyone saw him was after dinner when we all went out to Neptune's Bounty, a new buffet restaurant that Agent Greenberg told us about. His car's not at his apartment and he isn't picking up his phone. His Pack bond is weak and thin.”

“Which would explain why your eyes are like that,” Deaton mused, leaning back in his chair. “Is anyone out looking for him?”

Derek nodded. “Scott is, and we're getting a BOLO put out on Stiles and his car. I'm just hoping we're in time.”

“We'll find him,” Deaton reassured him. “I'll see what I can get set into motion. For now, focus on trying to trace his steps. Get Danny to start trawling through the traffic camera footage from that night, starting at the nearest intersections to the restaurant and going out from there. I'll call the D.O.T., make sure they know to give him access to their database.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek said, getting to his feet. “I'll talk to him.”

“Good. Keep me updated as often as possible.” Deaton paused. “And Hale?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Find a quiet corner and take a deep breath. I need you at your best for this. Your Wolf is running too close to the surface right now. Take a moment and reel it back in.”

Derek hid a wince, knowing Deaton was right. “I'll try.”

“You'd better. Call me when you find something,” Deaton said, and then picked up his desk phone and dialing it. Derek took that as his cue to leave. He followed Deaton's advice and found a quiet place to regroup, using Stiles' office as his temporary hideaway. The scent and familiar surroundings helped to calm him down, and after a few minutes, Derek was relaxed enough that the red faded from his eyes, leaving the familiar green in its wake.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before getting up from the couch and leaving the office, closing the door behind him. They had work to do, and he wouldn't be getting it done by hiding like a scared rabbit in its burrow. Time to go.


	3. Sing, Sweet Nightingale

Keeping track of time was hard, even with the semi-regular meals that were delivered to Stiles and Cora's cell. Stiles found that it was easier to keep track of the cycles of rest and magic drainings than to make any attempt of accurate time-keeping. His watch and cell phone had been taken from him at some point before he'd initially woken up. His captors seemed to prefer draining Stiles' magic after letting him rest and recuperate for several hours.

It was towards the end of one of the draining cycles that Stiles felt it: the faint twang of the Pack bond in the back of his mind. He'd nearly forgotten about it, as it was such an integral part of his magical signature that it usually blended in with everything else. Stiles latched onto it, his eyes sliding shut as he did so. 

He took in a deep breath and tipped back his head as much as was possible given his current condition before letting out a loud howl. It was an eerie sound, and one that seemed like it shouldn't have been able to be produced by a human's vocal cords. The magical circle flared in response to the howl, the blue light spluttering and flickering violently. After several seconds, the howl faded away, though Stiles' throat kept working, as if the sound was continuing on a different level of hearing. 

In a nearby room, a bank of monitors displayed the room Stiles was being kept in, as well as other rooms and hallways around the building. The two men Stiles had dubbed the Goon Brothers watched the monitors. A tall woman wearing a smart pant-suit stood behind their chairs, watching over them. She frowned when she saw Stiles howling and stepped forward, tapping Goon One on the shoulder.

“What is he doing? Turn the sound on for that room!”

Goon One nodded and flicked a switch. The second he did so, Stiles' howl filled the room, sending shivers down the spines of all those who heard it. The woman's eyes widened as she watched Stiles.

“You two are _idiots_ ,” she breathed, shaking her head. "Why the hell didn't you know he was a Pack Mage?”

“A what?”

The woman sighed exasperatedly. “A Pack Mage. Someone who's bound to a Pack by a magical bond. He's Calling them here, letting them know where he is. Knock him out right now!”

“Wh-- How do you want us to do that, Reagan?”

“I don't know, a sleep spell maybe? You two managed that much before,” Reagan snapped. “Forget this shit. You can tell Roberts that I'm out of here. I'm not going to tangle with a whole Pack of werewolves. I'll gladly let you assholes deal with the fallout.”

With that, she stalked out of the room, leaving the two men behind. They exchanged looks and then Goon One hit another button, flooding the draining room with sleeping magics. Stiles slumped in his chair with a soft sigh, unconsciousness dragging him down quickly.

Stiles was tossed back into the cell not long after that, his limp body hitting the ground hard. Cora scrambled over to him, checking his pulse. It was slow but steady, which reassured her some. She dragged Stiles over to the sleeping area, settling him on the soft mat that acted as their bed. She draped a blanket over him, glad for the superior night vision her werewolf genetics afforded her.

“You'd better not die on me,” she told the unresponsive Stiles. “I'll be pissed if you do. You're the first quality company I've had in years.”

“I won't, don't worry,” Stiles muttered hoarsely, cracking his eyes open to look vaguely in her direction.

“What happened? They don't usually knock you out like that.”

Stiles chuckled weakly. “I Called my Pack.”

“Your Pack? But you're not a 'wolf.”

“Nope. Grade-A human. But I'm the Pack Mage regardless,” Stiles said with a grin. “I was surprised by it too when they told me. I'd almost forgotten about the Pack bond because I'm so used to it. Huh. They must've noticed I was missing.”

“At least you know you have someone who misses you,” Cora said quietly, leaning back against the wall. “I don't know who my Pack was. Or is. My memories before I got here are completely gone thanks to all the crap they've put me through.”

“How long have you been here?”

Cora shrugged, the thin fabric of her scrubs rustling with the motion. “Don't know. At least ten years, if not longer.”

Stiles whistled softly. “Well, when we get out of here, I'll do my best to find out where your Pack is. I promise.”

“Thanks, Stiles.”

“No problem.”

~/~

Danny was on his sixth hour of trawling through the footage sent to him by the D.O.T when he saw all of the 'wolves on the team suddenly stiffen and face towards the north-east wall as one, their eyes flaring unearthly hues of gold. He looked up entirely from his work at Scott's whine of loss, the noise taking him by surprise.

“Scott?” Danny asked, unnerved by the others' actions.

“Stiles,” Scott breathed, his eyes wide. “He was Calling us.”

“What?”

Danny never got his answer, because Derek emerged from his office as he was pulling on his coat, his eyes back to their Alpha red. Derek let out a short growl, and the other 'wolves scrambled over to him. Danny looked over at Allison and Lydia, who shrugged.

“You three stay here,” Derek snapped out, looking over at the three humans. “Keep tracking Stiles that way. We're going to see if we can find him through the Pack bond.”

“You want me to call the LAPD for backup?” Lydia asked. Derek shook his head.

“No. This is a Pack matter. They'll only get in the way.” With that, he led the other 'wolves out of the bullpen and into the elevator, the doors closing behind them and blocking them from view.

“Well,” Allison said, “this should be interesting.”

Lydia snorted softly. “Yeah. Now, who wants to be the one to tell Deaton about this?”


	4. Caged Birds Freed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A treat for you: two chapters in one day! This is the longest chapter to date of this story. Also, I played around a little bit with the mythology concerning Teen Wolf werewolves here. They have three forms: human, what the show calls 'Beta' forms (changed face, claws, etc, but still mostly human), and then full wolf, but bigger than a mundane wolf. Happy reading!

Derek and the others left the SUV they'd traveled in at a grocery store parking lot at the edge of the city, shifting to full wolf forms to maximize their tracking abilities. Derek led the Pack, following the sickly amber of Stiles' Bond-line. It was easiest to see the Bond-line in full wolf form. As an Alpha, Derek's wolf form was at least a third larger than the others', even when compared to Boyd's. The wolves moved through the Californian night with near-tireless swiftness, human minds and canine bodies moving in perfect sync with one another.

The pull of Stiles' Bond-line guided the Pack past the last outskirts of civilization and into the Mojave, the evening darkness providing a good amount of cover for them. Three miles into the desert, the Pack came across a group of buildings just off a set of dirt roads; a clump of industrial-sized generators provided power for the complex. The Bond-line led to the largest building in the center of the complex. The Pack paused at the edge of the complex as they tried to formulate a plan of attack.

 _Well, we've found him,_ Erica said over the Pack Bond. _Now what?_

We'll get Stiles and capture anyone who gets in our way, Derek replied with a soft growl.

 **What if they have other people held captive?** Scott asked.

We free them as well. Once we get everyone subdued, we'll call the State Patrol, as well as ambulances, just in case, Derek replied. Let's go.

The Pack moved off, slipping through the shadows until they reached the central building. Isaac shifted back to human form in order to open the first unlocked door that they could find. The others padded in, their claws clicking faintly against the hard laminate of the floor.

Boyd, Erica, go hunting. Remember, we want them alive and able to answer for their crimes. Knock them out and restrain them only, Derek said. Isaac, Scott, with me.

Derek turned back to human form, prompting the others to do the same. They split up at the next junction in the hallway, Boyd and Erica searching out unfamiliar heartbeats and scents while Scott, Isaac, and Derek followed the Bond-line towards the place where Stiles was being held. Derek stayed in the lead, his Betas to either side of him. The three of them moved swiftly through the halls, intent on getting to Stiles as quickly as possible.

The Bond-line led them below ground level. They went down two flights of stairs until they were traveling down a dimly-lit corridor. It stopped at a thick door that was barricaded on the outside, a padlock securing everything. Derek made short work of the padlock, the metal shearing with a tortured sound as he used his preternatural strength to pull it free. He tossed it aside, the broken metal landing carelessly to the side. Scott and Isaac pulled the heavy door open, sending a flood of light into the room beyond.

Stiles was sitting against the far wall, a thin blanket draped around his shoulders. His clothes were rumpled and he looked exhausted, his face drawn and pale. He wasn't alone, either: a young woman with very pale skin and an equally thin face and build sat next to him. She was leaning against him, huddling with him for warmth.

“Stiles!”

The three 'wolves spoke simultaneously, but it was Derek who reached him first, carefully pulling him up into a tight hug. Isaac took care of the woman, the Beta noting that she was a 'wolf as well. Stiles clung to Derek in relief, wrapping his arms around the Alpha as tightly as he could manage.

“Oh, thank God,” he exclaimed, his voice muffled against Derek's shoulder. “I wasn't sure if you'd heard my Call. How long have I been gone?”

“Five days. It's Monday,” Scott replied. “Are you okay?”

“Exhausted,” Stiles said, looking at Scott over Derek's shoulder as best he could, “and ready for an actual meal. What time is it?”

Scott check his watch. “Uh, just about seven thirty or so. Are you wearing a collar?”

Stiles nodded, a crooked smile curving his lips. “Yeah. It blocks me from using most of my magic. I don't know how to get it off.”

“We'll figure something out,” Scott reassured him, and then looked over at Stiles' cell-mate. “Hi. Who're you?”

“Cora,” she replied, giving him a wary look. “Who're you?”

“Scott McCall,” Scott said. “Don't worry, we're the good guys. We work with Stiles at the FBI.”

Derek looked up at Cora's name, focusing intently on her. He lifted his head from where he'd buried it against Stiles' neck, scenting him and making sure he was okay. “What's your last name?” he asked. Cora shrugged, leaning against Isaac as she did so.

“I don't know. Like I've told Stiles, all of the tests and spells they've put me through over the years have messed with my memory. I can't remember anything before this place.”

“They might have files around here,” Stiles suggested, carefully peeling himself away from Derek. Derek's attention snapped back to him, a soft whine of protest leaving his throat before he could stop it. He'd only just found his Mate again; he wasn't going to let him move too far away that quickly.

“Whoa, no need to worry,” Stiles said, surprised. “I'm not going to disappear because we're not touching.”

Derek took in a deep breath to steady himself, letting Stiles' familiar scent and presence act as an anchor. He doubted he would be able to relax until Stiles was safe and sound in Pack territory, preferably at Derek's apartment. “Let's go,” he managed, his fangs itching to sharpen and extend. “I want to see what Erica and Boyd found.”

They left the cell behind, Isaac helping Cora while Derek kept an eye on Stiles. Scott took point, ready to defend the others if needed. They found Boyd and Erica in the observation room, as well as the two unconscious Goon Brothers, who were laying on their sides in the middle of the room, their hands bound behind their backs with zip ties. Erica was sitting on one of the rolling chairs, idly examining her nails. She looked up when the others came in, giving them a short wave. 

“So, these two were the only ones we found in this building,” Boyd said, pushing off of the wall he'd been leaning against. “We had a quick look through the other buildings, but they seem to be used for storage, mainly.”

Derek nodded. “Good. Call dispatch, have them send out a few cruisers, a crime scene team, and some ambulances. We're going to need them.”

“What?” Stiles looked confused. “Why?”

Erica snorted softly. “Have you seen yourself recently? You look like you can barely walk. Your friend isn't in much better of a shape. Worse, I'd say.”

“I hate ambulances,” Stiles said with a slight pout. “They suck.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. You don't have the healing powers that we do,” Erica retorted, getting up from her chair. “What's with the collar?”

“Magic suppression,” Isaac offered. “We haven't tried taking them off yet.”

“That could be a problem,” Stiles said. “Cora and I can't take them off ourselves, and I don't know how to remove them without triggering them.”

“Triggering them?”

Stiles nodded at Scott's question. “They give off a shock if we try anything, according to Cora.”

“Well, if you can't take them off, maybe we can,” Boyd said thoughtfully. “Can you read the runes on Cora's collar?”

Stiles peered closely at Cora's collar, studying the runes, and then nodded. “Yeah, I can. Hm. I think if we take my collar off first, I can get Cora's off her with no problems.”

“Why not take them off together?” Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head. “Not a good idea. Cora's magic has been suppressed way longer than mine. That sort of long build up is going to be like releasing the pressure valve on a water main. We'll want to be well away from any buildings before we do it.”

“Good thing we're in the desert, then,” Isaac said. “So, how do we take yours off?”

Stiles thought about it for a moment. “Press the runes that look like a trident, a lightning bolt, and a spiral all at once,” he replied. “That should do it.”

“Should?” Derek repeated.

“Hey, it's the best I've got. If you've got something else, speak up,” Stiles retorted. “But we should do it outside just in case. Someone take a picture before we do anything. We want to preserve the evidence.”

Scott took out his smartphone and snapped several pictures of both Stiles and Cora, documenting their current states before e-mailing them to each of the team's accounts just in case. Danny immediately called him, asking for updates. Scott filled him in, knowing Lydia and Allison would be listening in on the call once they knew it was him.

“No, no, Stiles is okay, as far as we can tell,” he said. “He looks like he could sleep for about a week--”

“Try two!” Stiles interrupted.

“Okay, two,” Scott corrected himself with a grin, “and he could use several good meals, but we're going to bring him home. Can you track my cell and send a few CHP units, CSIs, and ambulances to our location? Oh, and tell them to watch out for a possible magical event.”

“Yeah, sure,” Danny said. Scott could make out the sound of him typing in the background. “Tracking you now. Stay on the line with me. Where are you guys?”

“About three miles past the city limits into the Mojave,” Scott replied. “There's a dirt access road that we saw as we were coming in that they can use. Our SUV is parked near the city limits at a Safeway.”

“We'll send people to pick it up.”

“No, we'll grab it on our way back,” Scott said, shaking his head. “It's fine. We'll be sending a few people along to ride with Stiles and Cora on the way to the hospital.”

“Cora?”

“We found her sharing the same cell as Stiles. Looks like she's been here a while.”

Danny swore softly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Scott continued on. “Look, I've got to go. Do you have the information you need?”

“Yep. I've got your coordinates. We'll be sending backup your way shortly.”

“Thanks, Danny.”

“No problem. Stay safe, okay?”

“Will do.” Scott hung up, giving Derek a short nod. “Danny's going to take care of everything.”

“Great. Let's get outside and get these damn collars off,” Derek said firmly. They did just that, heading outside and away from the complex. Isaac and Erica stayed behind to watch over the two Goon Brothers while Scott and Boyd went with the others.

“Okay, so, trident, lightning bolt, spiral, all at once. Got it?” Stiles asked Derek, who nodded.

“Got it,” he confirmed. Derek searched out the three symbols and then hesitated before pressing them all at once. There was a tense moment where nothing happened and then the runes flared a violet color before fading out entirely, the collar falling into two neat halves. Green-white sparks traveled over Stiles' body, coming up from the ground and coursing over him before sinking through his clothes and into his skin. He blinked rapidly, swaying gently before he regained his balance.

“Ah, much better,” he said, some of the color returning to his face.

“You're still going to the hospital,” Derek told him. Stiles shrugged. 

“I figured as much. You are way too bossy, Sourwolf,” he teased. Derek growled softly at him, though there was no real menace in the sound at all. 

“Go help Cora,” he ordered. Stiles nodded. 

“You guys might want to back away,” he said. “Give us a twenty foot distance. Actually, make it twenty-five for safety.”

“You sure?” Scott asked.

“No. It probably should be more.”

Scott went slightly pale at that but nodded anyways. He left Cora in Stiles' capable hands, backing up with Boyd at his side. Derek was reluctant to leave Stiles but did so after a moment's protest, moving back to the safety perimeter Stiles had suggested, standing between Scott and Boyd. Stiles gave Cora a small smile.

“Ready?”

Cora nodded, her expression set. “I've been ready for ten years,” she said. “Do it.”

Stiles took a deep breath and then pressed the runes. A column of neon red-orange light surged upwards from the ground, engulfing the two Mages and obscuring them from view. It shot up to a staggering height, illuminating the night with its brightness. Derek howled out Stiles' name, about to leap forward into the swirling mass of magic, but Boyd and Scott held him back before he could move more than a few inches.

“No!” Scott shouted over the roar of the magic. “Not yet! Wait until it dies down!”

Derek growled, his fangs bared and his eyes a near match for the column of magic towering above them. He made to shake the two Betas off, but they stood their ground. Just before Derek was about to turn on them and make them let him go, the magic winked out between one breath and the next, leaving a scorched circle twenty feet wide on the sand, which had fused into a brittle sheet of fine-grained glass. It was dead silent; not even crickets sounded in the near-absolute vacuum of silence. Only the cool desert wind whistling past made any noise.

In the middle of the circle lay Stiles and Cora, both completely unconscious and overwhelmed from the overload of magic. Cora had changed into her wolf form at some point, her dark brown fur singed slightly from the heat. Stiles' shoes and clothes hadn't survived the magical blast; he was curled around Cora, her furry body acting as a modesty shield for him. The three 'wolves hurried over, the glass-sand crunching under their shoes; Derek shrugged off his jacket as he went. He knelt down beside Stiles, draping his jacket over Stiles' body to shield him from the elements, before checking to make sure that Stiles' heart was still beating, his claws retracting so he could delicately place two fingers against his Mate's neck.

“Well,” Scott said from where he was checking Cora's heartbeat, one hand over her ribcage, “that was intense.”

In the far distance, sirens sounded, thin wails on the desert breeze that were coming ever closer.


	5. New Beginnings

Stiles woke to the sound of rhythmic beeping that matched the dull throb in his head. He frowned when he realized that there was a slight echo to the beeping. He cracked his eyes open, trying to figure out where the secondary beeping was coming from. Stiles sighed, his body feeling weary and sore, as if he'd been running several miles without stopping.

“Stiles?”

Stiles turned his head at the sound of Lydia's voice, blearily focusing on his teammate. “Lydia? Hey,” he said, his voice surprising him with its roughness. Lydia was sitting on a hard-backed chair to his left, looking tired but otherwise relatively well. “Where are we?”

“The magic user's wing of Cedars-Sinai,” Lydia replied. “You and Cora were knocked out when her magic returned, according to the others.”

Stiles' eyes widened. “Where are the others?” He struggled to push himself up into a sitting position, but a heavy weight over the bottom of his legs made it hard to do so. Stiles made a confused noise and then looked down towards the end of the bed. There, laying stretched across his feet, was Derek in wolf form, his head facing towards the door so he could guard Stiles even in slumber.

Lydia smirked slightly. “He's been there ever since we were first allowed to see you and Cora,” she explained. “She's on the other bed across the room. Isaac's keeping watch over her, though not exactly like Derek is for you, or at least, I don't think so, anyways.”

“And the others?” Stiles asked, subsiding back against his pillows.

“All safe and sound. They've got CSIs going over the entire complex right now, and Danny's trying to figure out who, exactly, Cora is. We fingerprinted her and drew her blood. The lab's going to rush everything through, so hopefully we'll have something by the morning at the latest.”

Stiles nodded wearily. “Good. She deserves to know who she is. Besides, I promised her we'd help her with that.”

“Glad we could help you keep your promises,” Lydia said sincerely. “The doctors say you guys will have to stay in here for a while so they can keep an eye on you. It'll only be for a few days, but I highly doubt Derek's going to let you out of his sight.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “He's way too overprotective of me.”

Lydia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “And for good reason.”

“Hey, I didn't mean to get kidnapped. It just... happened,” Stiles finished lamely.

Lydia let out a huff of laughter. “That's not what I meant.” She rose to her feet gracefully. “I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” With that, she left, leaving Stiles to wonder just what she'd meant until he'd fallen asleep again.

 

Derek was still there when Stiles woke up again, though he'd moved to rest next to him, his nose tucked carefully against Stiles' neck. Stiles smiled fondly, carefully lifting one hand and running his fingers through Derek's surprisingly soft fur. Derek stirred at Stiles' touch, looking at him sleepily as he raised his head.

“Hey,” Stiles said quietly, his smile still in place. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Any time, Derek replied over the Pack Bond. Stiles blinked, his nose wrinkling.

“Have I ever told you how weird that feels when you do that?” he asked. “ 'Cause it's ridiculous.”

Sorry, Princess. Can't help it, Derek retorted, having the good grace to turn his head away from Stiles' face before yawning. Even then, Stiles could see his sharp white fangs glinting in the low light of the room. How are you feeling? Derek continued on.

“Alright, though pretty sore,” Stiles admitted. “Nothing a long, hot soak bath and some painkillers won't fix, though. Lydia was here earlier. She told me that they're trying to figure out Cora's identity at the lab.”

Derek nodded his head carefully. Yes, they are. He glanced over at her bed, beside which Isaac was dozing in a chair, his head tilted back at an awkward angle. Isaac seems to have taken to her quickly.

“Yeah, he has,” Stiles agreed. “Any idea why besides 'it's just Isaac'?”

She could be his Mate, Derek mused. 'Wolves recognize that on an instinctual level, so even if he doesn't consciously realize it, his Wolf does. It's why they felt so much at ease around one another back at the complex. He'll most likely be protective of her until he realizes what's going on.

“What, and all 'wolves are like that around their Mate?”

Usually, Derek said with the canine version of a shrug, but it depends on the 'wolf.

Stiles thought that over for a minute, his thoughts bouncing around a little slower than normal until he came to a surprised conclusion that left him making a surprised noise.

What?

Stiles frowned and looked over at Derek. “What 'what'?”

You made that noise you make when you figure something out that's been bothering you for a while, Derek said. What did you think of?

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just something Lydia said earlier,” Stiles replied idly, his fingers still slipping through Derek's fur in an almost mindless fashion. Derek didn't bother stopping him; indeed, he was quite enjoying the sensation, not to mention the fact that his Mate was touching him so sweetly. He reveled in the attention, leaning into Stiles' touch.

I see. I don't suppose you'll be telling me about it any time soon? Derek asked.

“Eh, I've got to think about a few things first,” Stiles said. “What I really could use is some food.”

I can get one of the nurses, Derek offered. 

“Would you? Thanks,” Stiles said gratefully. “I feel like I could eat a moose.”

I don't know if they've got moose or not, but I'll check, Derek teased, lightly jumping off the bed and then shifting back to human form. “Be back soon.”

Isaac woke up just before Derek left, snapping into consciousness with a suddenness that surprised Stiles. “Everything okay?” Isaac asked sleepily.

“Just fine,” Derek reassured him. “I'm going to see if I can find a nurse so I can get some food for Stiles.”

Isaac nodded, stretching in his seat. “Alright. I'll stay here and keep an eye on things.”

“Good.” Derek left, closing the door behind him. Isaac smiled at Stiles rolling his neck to rid it of the kinks there. Stiles returned the smile, glad to have at least one member of the team still with him. Isaac idly checked his phone, his eyes widening as he read over his text messages.

“Something interesting?” Stiles asked, watching as Isaac typed out a quick reply to Danny's message, fingers flying over the keyboard of his phone. Isaac made a non-committal noise in answer, not looking up from his phone. He sat back in his chair, watching his phone like a hawk. It buzzed a minute later with a new text from Danny, something that made Isaac sit back in his chair and run a hand over his face thoughtfully.

“I know that look,” Stiles said, gingerly pushing himself up into a sitting position. “That's the look you get when you have to tell Derek about something. What's up?”

“You'll find out when Derek does,” Isaac replied.

“Find out what?” Derek had come in quietly, his trip to the nurses' station not having taken him very long at all.

“No clue,” Stiles replied with a slight pout as Derek took a seat next to his bed. “Isaac won't tell me.”

Derek looked at Isaac, one eyebrow arched. “Well?”

Isaac held up his phone. “The results on Cora's tests came back,” he said. “We found out who her family is.”

“Really? Who? What's her full name?” Stiles asked, an excited note to his voice.

“Cora Naomi Hale. She's Derek's sister. The DNA proves it.”

Stiles looked over at Derek, who had a dumbstruck look on his face as he stared at Isaac. “Derek?”

“I--” Derek broke off, shaking his head. “That's... that's impossible. She... she went missing when she was thirteen. She didn't come home from school one day. The cops did everything to find her, but they never did. We couldn't feel her in the Pack Bond any more, so we thought she'd died. It's why we moved to New York. Mom and Dad couldn't stand being in California any more, so we all went out there.”

“The DNA doesn't lie, Derek,” Isaac said quietly. “She's a familial match to you. The fingerprints are a match for the ones in the Missing Persons database as well. She's the right age, right species, everything. She's your sister.”

Derek looked like he was about to cry, his right hand curled over his mouth and his shoulders hunched. Stiles reached out and took hold of Derek's other hand, holding it tight. “This is a good thing, Derek,” Stiles told him. “Don't you see? Your sister's alive. And I can bet you I know why you guys couldn't feel her in the Pack Bond after she'd disappeared.”

Derek looked at him, brow furrowed. “The magic draining,” Stiles explained. “I'd almost forgotten about the Pack Bond we share because it's such a part of me now that I don't even think about it. I'm betting it's an even more vital part of a 'wolf's magic, so when they fully drained her magic the first time, they took the Bond with it. And when the magic came back after that...” He trailed off meaningfully.

“No more Bond,” Isaac finished, his gaze going to the slumbering form of Cora, who looked peaceful in her bed, sleeping the sleep of the heavily medicated. “That makes a lot of sense. I bet you anything the loss of the Bond helped to contribute to the memory loss as well. That's hard for a 'wolf, to suddenly lose all ties to their Pack.”

“I'm sure it is.” Stiles squeezed Derek's hand again. “Like I said, this is a good thing.” He smiled a little. “Looks like you got a two-for-one deal on that whole rescue gig you pulled: a technomage and a sister. Not a bad deal, if I say so myself.”

That provoked a small smile out of Derek, who squeezed Stiles' hand back. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his voice rough. “God, all these years and she was in that cell...” He shook his head. “My family's not going to believe this.”

“You should go tell them,” Stiles urged. “As soon as possible. We're not going anywhere, I promise.”

Derek looked uncertain, but Stiles shook his head. “Go,” he insisted. “Don't make me get out of this bed and kick your ass out of this room, Sourwolf. I'll do it if I have to.”

Derek ducked his head, ineffectively hiding his fondly exasperated grin. “Alright, alright,” he said, getting to his feet and relinquishing Stiles' hand reluctantly. “Only because you'll keep bitching at me if I don't.”

“Damn right I will,” Stiles quipped. “Now, shoo.”

Derek strode out of the room, holding the door for the nurse who was bringing in a tray of food for Stiles. She set the tray on a side table before rearranging him so he was comfortable, bringing him the food only when she was happy with the way the pillows were supporting him. 

“If you need anything else, just press the buzzer,” she told him, pointing out the nurse call button. Stiles nodded.

“Will do,” he said. The nurse checked on Cora before going, leaving the door open a crack. Stiles dug into his food, wrinkling his nose slightly at the mildly flavored meal but eating it all the same. He was seriously hungry, so any food was good so long as it was going into his stomach. It didn't take too long for him to polish it all off; he sat back with a content sigh, nestling back into the pillows.

“You think he'll be okay?” he asked Isaac.

“Yeah, I do,” Isaac replied. “It's just a lot to take in, you know? I mean, you heard what he said: his family thought Cora had been dead for years, and he suddenly finds out that she's alive? That's all kinds of crazy.”

“True.” Stiles set his tray aside on the side table, folding his hands in his lap. “I hope they let us out of here soon. I hate hospitals.”

“So do I,” Isaac said. “I think most people do except for when a baby's being born. Then they're awesome.”

“Not for the mom giving birth.”

“Ah, but by then she's usually on the good drugs, so it doesn't really matter,” Isaac countered, making Stiles laugh.

“Ugh, don't make me laugh,” he said, still chuckling. “I'll get a stitch in my side.”

Isaac grinned brightly at that. “Sounds like a good thing to me.”

Stiles threw one of his pillows at him. It seemed like the only logical response to that.

 

Three days later, Cora and Stiles were released from the hospital. Cora had taken the news of Derek being her brother surprisingly well, considering the situation. There had been careful hugs from both sides, though the news that the whole family would be coming out within the next few weeks was a little daunting to everyone involved. 

Derek insisted that there be a Pack gathering at his place, which was where Cora and Stiles would be staying; the former until the family arrived and they figured out what to do with her, the latter for the night, since Derek didn't want him being at home alone with no one to keep an eye on him just in case. The couches were pushed back in the living room and a mess of blankets and pillows spread across the floor, creating a comfortable nest that the Pack, 'wolves and humans alike, settled down on. 

Cora and Stiles were near the center with Derek, the Pack creating a living, breathing barrier around them. There were quite a few hugs exchanged that night until all of the hospital scents were gone and replaced with that of the Pack. Cora had been absorbed into the Pack near-effortlessly, even without an official Pack Bond. They decided on a marathon of all the Pixar movies, starting with _Toy Story_ and going chronologically from there.

Somewhere around the start of _Finding Nemo_ , Stiles dozed off leaning against Scott, and only woke up when the ending credits of _Ratatouille_ were scrolling past. Scott was now cuddled up with Allison, leaving Stiles to use a pillow to cushion his head. Most everyone else was asleep as well, tangled together in a loose net of limbs, blankets, and pillows. Isaac and Cora were all but wrapped around one another, with Isaac curled around her, one arm thrown loosely over her waist and his nose buried in her hair. Erica was using Boyd as a pillow, while Danny had Lydia leaning against him. 

The only person Stiles couldn't find was Derek, so he gently disentangled himself from the mass of people and picked his way to clear ground, taking his blanket with him. He made a quick stop off at the bathroom before resuming his search for Derek. Stiles found him on the small balcony, sitting on the cool concrete as he stared up at the few stars that were visible through the light pollution from the city.

Stiles sat down next to him, wrapping the blanket tightly around his body. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Derek looked at him, checking him over. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Everyone else has pretty much passed out,” Stiles reported. “There's still room in there for the both of us if you want to join in on the puppy pile.”

Derek smiled fondly, glancing back over his shoulder at the Pack before turning back to Stiles. “Maybe later.”

Stiles nodded, looking up at the stars. “So,” he said after being silent for a few minutes, “you wanted to know what it was I figured out at the hospital.”

Derek shrugged. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“No, I do,” Stiles reassured him, readjusting his blanket. “It's important. And I've had some time to think about it.”

“That's dangerous.”

Stiles shot Derek a look. “You're an asshole.”

“Maybe, but you love me anyways,” Derek shot back, using one of Stiles' favorite retorts.

“Yeah, I do. That was one of the things I figured out.”

Derek's eyebrows rose. “Only one of the things?” he asked cautiously, not sure where this was going.

Stiles nodded, and then moved the blanket enough to be able to shove Derek hard in the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me we were Mates before, asshole?”

That caught Derek off-guard, and he had to scramble to come up with an answer. “I didn't exactly want to force a relationship on you, for one thing,” he began, “and for another, I don't even know if you like guys.”

“Okay, the first point is kind of valid, but given how we act around one another as it is, I think using the word 'force' is a strong term,” Stiles told him. “As for the second, dude, I haven't exactly been subtle in my appreciation of anything hot that moves, but in particular, my great appreciation for the complete package of the werewolf GQ model that's my team leader. I mean, I don't sing praises of your ass to the Director, because let's be real, that would be _ridiculously_ awkward, but you've had to at least scented some of the attraction on me at some point when I'm near you.”

Derek blinked. “Huh. I'm an idiot.”

Stiles snickered. “Yes, you are, but you're _my_ idiot. I think I kind of proved that when I gave you a nickname within the first five minutes of our meeting one another.” He paused. “Though to be fair, you did start that whole trend, you know.”

Derek shrugged. “Yeah, well, occasionally my brain-to-mouth filter doesn't work all that well some times. Unlike yours.”

“Hey, mine's perfectly fine,” Stiles protested. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Uh huh, right.”

“It is!” Stiles pouted, but it wasn't very effective, given that with the blanket wrapped around him, he looked all of five years old. Derek couldn't resist leaning in and giving him a light kiss on the lips, taking Stiles completely by surprise.

“What-- what was that for?” Stiles asked, eyes wide. Derek merely smiled.

“Because I could.” He paused, panic suddenly racing through his body. “That _was_ okay, right?”

This time it was Stiles' turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, that was okay,” he said. “More than okay, actually, but I'm not about to get into a make-out session with you on your cold-ass balcony at one in the morning. That can come later, preferably when we're somewhere warm and the Pack isn't ten feet away. For now, let's just go inside and sleep. There's just enough room in the middle if we squeeze tight.” 

He got to his feet, holding out his hand for Derek to take. “I think we can manage that,” Derek replied with a small smile. Stiles nodded.

“Good. Now let's get inside before I freeze to death.”

“It's L.A. You'll get heatstroke first.”

“Shut up.”

 

And in the morning, when Stiles woke up and found that he was comfortably ensconced in Derek's arms, a blanket draped over the two of them while the Pack slumbered around them, he wasn't about to complain. Particularly not when Derek snuck a few good morning kisses before anyone else woke up. No, no complaints at all.


End file.
